


Bad for my health.

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Enemy Lovers, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Under-negotiated Kink, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, sorta?, starts off accidental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Heimdall has a rule never to watch other asgardians during certain times. He hadn't meant to spy on this, but he couldn't look away - and then the traitor had begun to speak to him, and he couldn't help it.
Relationships: Heimdall/Skurge
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Bad for my health.

**Author's Note:**

> From what I remember people can hear Heimdall's voice when he's looking at them, so this fic heavily relies on that idea.

[my writing twitter!](https://twitter.com/lady_talla_doe/status/1277349316407906304?s=19)

* * *

* * *

The dark that closed around him as he slipped into his own quarters was a balm. Skurge paused, letting out the breathe that had been trapped in his throat all day; he hesitated over the bolt on the door, then threw it with a tired sigh.

It wasn’t like it would stop Hela. Nothing stopped Hela.

The rattle of his armour was the only sound, echoing through his chambers. Skurge was not a _family_ man, and had no one to welcome him home after a day spent in service to the new queen- no one to hold his hand, and assure him he had made the correct choice. No shred of comfort in the dark home.

He stripped to the skin, and made himself hand his heavy armour on its stand, tossing the soiled gambeson onto the pile of linens that had yet to be collected. Things were taking more time, under Hela- people were afraid, and even those with no reason to fear her were fleeing. Those essential to the daily running of the kingdom, like the laundresses.

Scrubbing his hands over his bare scalp, he looked up at the stars, visibly through his open balcony doors. A small garden was light by starlight, an although tempting to sit under the pomegranate tree and let it’s sweet smelling blossoms sooth his worries for a time, Skurge didn’t have the luxury of free time these days. Casting it one last, longing look, he turned his back on the peaceful garden, and padded across the cool tiles to his private washing room. He left the room dark, sighing as he sank, unwashed, into the hot pool of water. Skurge tipped his head back against the rim of the pool, ignoring the crawling feeling like a gaze was on him.

_It’s nothing. Just shot nerves._

He closed his eyes, and let the hot water steal the tension from body. Despite his best attempts, the sensation did not dissipate.

~*~

Gold eyes focused down into the city, Heimdall settled more comfortably; this _traitor_ everyone had told him so much about, Hela’s right hand, looked so tired in the privacy of his own home. Just another victim in her senseless war, a mouse caught too close to scurry away. The way the warrior stared at the small, carefully tended garden. The yearning for that peace, and the disregard for wash manners, barbarically stepping into the soaking pool with dirt still clinging to his skin.

Heimdall felt that. The type of exhaustion that ran so deep that you couldn’t do much more than the bare minimal.

The warrior lingered in the pool long enough that he thought Skurge had fallen asleep there. The moon was full and high in the sky when he woke, suddenly, brown eyes opening to stare up at the sky like he could _see_ Heimdall looking down at him, spying from the mountains.

He hauled himself out of the water, cascading down the cut lines of his body, skin shining in the moon light. It was the careless, unselfconscious gesture of someone who thought they weren’t being observed, and Heimball rested his chin on his fist, trying to cover how fast his heart had raced.

Not many could sense his eyes upon them. Even the princes, who had been trained to detect it, couldn’t always tell.

He should look away. There was nothing to learn from this poor puppet warrior; but Heimdall found he couldn’t turn his gaze away. He followed his nude form though the dark home to his rest chamber.

~*~

Despite himself, Skurge had fallen asleep in the bath, unable to maintain the tension from the day. But the sensation of being watched hadn’t dissipated with the cloud of exhaustion – in fact, the feeling of invisible eyes on him was what inevitably woke him. He’d spent more than one night in his bath, stress soaked away during the night by the warm waters. He wouldn’t call it healthy, but they weren’t in healthy times.

The eyes followed him to his bed chamber. It didn’t feel erotic, simply _there_.

Well, Skurge knew one way to make an unwanted watcher look away.

There were many things he had found from earth, but a few he had figured out more readily than others. One in particular he hadn’t had a chance to _use_ , but its purpose had been obvious, and he’d hidden it quickly at the time.

Now he unrolled the fur he had hidden it in, tracing the surface with a fingertip. It was soft, and gave slightly, not quite the texture of flesh, but still pleasing. The package had said _silicone_ , but the word meant nothing to Skurge. It could be the name for the item, or the colour, or the shape- he knew he liked the texture, and from the phallic shape could guess its use. He took it and the skin of oil to his bed, and lay back, looking up at the darkness.

“Looking in bedchambers now, Heimdall? How lewd.” Said Skurge, but his voice came out rough, anticipation thickening it. He had thought the idea of a witness would dim the pleasure of this – but he had been so _alone_. Any form of connection, even if there was a chance he was imagining it...

Skurge tipped the oil onto his fingers, headless of the way it dripped down his wrist and spilled onto the sheets. Keeping his gaze on the dark ceiling, he pulled his knees up, and spread them. His oiled hand slide teasingly down his front, and his breath caught.

He hadn’t been sure before, but he was now. Heimdall was watching him.

~*~

The traitor had made him – Heimdall hid his smile, and considered leaving him in peace. But something about how he looked, wet skin shining in his golden gaze, mouth wet and open with want. His dark eyes were black with want, strong thighs spread invitingly, and he seemed to be waiting for a response from Heimdall. Skurge’s oiled fingers circled his own entrance, but he seemed to be teasing himself.

It wasn’t smart – it would confirm he had been monitoring them- but Heimdall had a feeling that Skurge wouldn’t be telling Hela about this encounter.

“Do you like being watched?” He asked the warrior.

Skurge groaned, a chest deep sound, and bit his lip. His arm shifted – pushing his fingers into himself, Heimdall realized- and the man tossed his head back, strong neck tense as he panted.

“Knew you were there.” Skurge’s eyes cracked open, and he looked so satisfied that Heimdall couldn’t help the soft snort of amusement.

Skurge’s arm move restlessly, breathing laboured; this angle didn’t work for what he wanted, it was for Heimdall’s benefit. _Fuck_. If he wasn’t carefully, he was going to end up doing something utterly inappropriate—

“You should be on your knees,” Heimdall said before he realized.

Skurge didn’t hesitate. He rolled onto his knees, fingers still deep in his body, and sat up so he could push them deeper; he rocked his hips down onto them, covering his mouth to smother the deep groan.

The _sounds_ his chest could make. Heimdall was hard, the ties of his pants digging in to his erection, and he was trying to ignore it, but it was only a matter of time. Skurge’s ragged breathes filled his head, filled the air around him like he should be able to feel them against his skin. He wanted to rest his hand on the curve of his strong spine, replace Skurge’s fingers with his own and make him cry out so loudly that he would have to smother his moans with a hand over his mouth.

He hadn’t meant to say it outloud.

Skurge moaned, loud enough that there was no way it wasn’t heard through one of his open windows.

“What next?” He asked, and Skurge sounded so wrecked. He _looked_ so wrecked- face and neck so flushed, Heimdall could see colour down to his shoulder blades, would bet his nipples were pebbled. His naked skin was wet with sweat now, knees spread wide in the mused bedding, hard cock swinging between his legs as he held himself braced on one shoulder, hunched over to mash his face against the bedding. His oiled entrance was stretched around three fingers, restlessly pushing in and out of his body.

Heimdall gave up on the pretence that he was just an observer, and cursed softly as he fought the tangle of his ties. His cock ached at the wanton sight the traitor made.

“I put you on your back,” he waited for him to follow to instruction, and wasn’t disappointed as Skurge pulled his fingers from himself, and rolled onto his back. He was breathing as hard as a winded horse, and the red flush _did_ go down his chest; his nipples stood in little desperate peeks in the dark. Heimdall fisted himself slowly, taking in his lust-devastated enemy.

“I assume that is some sort of-” Heimdall started

“Midgar phallic, yes,” Skurge finished quickly. He groped around by his hip, finding the toy in the bedding, and the oil.

“Use it.” Heimdall prompted, already too close by the taboo nature to go into detail. Skurge tossed his head back again, strong chest straining as if against some invisible force – the idea that being commanded to fuck himself might turn the warrior on so much. Well, it was going to stay with Heimdall for a long while.

He spread this strong legs again, and spread oil shakily on a brown phallic. It glistened, and Heimdall followed it, listened to Skurge hold his breath as he pressed the toy against his oiled entrance. It breached him slowly, and the warrior gasped out, “It’s big,” like he was surprised.

“Have you ever done this before?” asked Heimdall, unable to stop himself, hand moving too quick over himself. It was too dry, but the sight of Skurge was making his mouth dry.

He hesitated, than nodded. Skurge’s eyes had been squeezed shut since the toy had entered him, his erection fading from the discomfort.

“Imagine it’s me.”

 _Fuck_. That was too far.

But Skurge moaned. Heimdall shifted his seat, widening his legs and sitting back so he could ; lean against the wall. “I would fill you, but you would love it. Thick and hard, hot as blood.” He purred, and Skurge was close, his pace erratic. The toy was too soft, and it made sloppy noises as he thrust it quickly into and out of his body; the warrior twisted himself in the sheets, holding his weight on a shoulder to fist his proud cock with one hand, and fuck his own ass with the crude approximate of a penis with the other.

“Would fill you up,” Heimdall growled, struggling not to close his eyes as his own edge neared. “Would you like that, Skurge? To be filled with my cum?”

The other Asgardian yelled, biting his own lip bloody to cut the noise off, as he came. His back arched, hips stuttering as he shot all over his bare skin. His heels dug into the bed, pulled the bedding free from its careful tuck, and Skurge’s yell turned into a whine as he dropped back into the soiled blankets. The toy was still deep inside him, it’s base visible between his spread legs.

“Spread your legs, Skurge,” Heimdall managed to gasp, needed to see- he dragged his exhausted limbs up, exposing his oil shiny ass and the stretched rim of his hole, the toy so similar in colour to Heimdell’s cock buried deep inside him.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” he muttered, as he came with a gasp, spilling over his hand. His eyes stung from keeping them open when they wanted to close, roll back, indulge in the bliss.

The haze of orgasm faded slowly, lazy warmth sinking into his limbs.

Heimdall turned his attention back to Skurge, only to find he had fallen asleep, sprawled on top of his blankets, nude and with the midgardian toy still in his body. He sighed softly, something akin to fondness winding through his chest.

“Good night, Skurge.”


End file.
